


Chaos and Tea Cups

by KitanaRiddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, First Kiss, Get Together, Is that a thing, It is now, Jim's perspective, M/M, Rough Kissing, Short, might make it into a series, slight daddy kink, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitanaRiddle/pseuds/KitanaRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's apartment has always been chaotic just to provide some sort of excitement. In his attempt to escape the mind melting boredom of life, he's tried to seduce the handsome John Watson. Despite a lack of interest, the blond shows up at Jim's apartment one rainy day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos and Tea Cups

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed and unbritpicked as always

Jim Moriarty always loved how chaotic his flat was, with tea cups strewn haphazardly about and piles of notepads and books on every surface; it reminded him of his mind palace which was equally anarchic. He spent his days tucked into a suit and organizing the thoughts spiraling in his mind; yet, when he got home he found he was able to strip out of his costume and allow himself to indulge in glorious disarray. He often wondered if his craving for disorder was why he devoted his life to organizing crimes.

Jim was a genius, full of manipulative words and flirty comebacks, with compact muscles hiding in his small frame.  His eyes were dark and filled with such menacing intent that his own reflection sometimes caused the man to stop and smirk. Jim liked to consider himself an antihero that kept the world interesting for the common people. He once created a charity to woman whose husband he’d murdered in a house fire that destroyed everything else she had, just to watch the reaction. His goal wasn’t to cause death and pain but to find things that excited him and made his dull life have meaning.

Lately that meaning had come in the form of a blond haired man with a strong chest and a good heart—John Watson.  He’d spent relentless time seducing and wooing the man, but John seemed to be unmoved by Jim’s devoting affection. He once threw a puppy into the Thames just to watch the army doctor fling himself in after it. John emerged from the water, holding the dog, with his sweater drenched and rage in his eyes. When asked why he did it, Jim stroked a hand through the other man’s wet locks and whispered that he always liked the look of his men wet. John hadn’t spoken to him for two months after that.

But the last few months of dates, as Jim liked to think of them, ended less frequently with John yelling and storming away and more often with the doctor’s blue eyes glancing down at Jim’s lips. With a sign, Jim kicked over an end table and smiled as the papers flew about the air and one of the tea cups chipped as it knocked against the wood flooring. He walked to the window to watch the rain that was pouring down cleanse the streets of London.

As he glared out at the peaceful city, the vehicles flowing down the street in an organized system, he noticed someone walking in the distance. They had no umbrella or raincoat.  However, it was the dark shade of blond and the steady shoulders that allowed Jim to identify the figure as that of John Watson. Jim looked around his flat and decided that John lived with Sherlock and was used to the frailty of genius.

The criminal grabbed a gun from the chest in the center of the living room, ignoring as the items on top of it fell to the ground as he opened the top, and waited to see how long it would take for John to sneak into the apartment. It took less than ten minutes.

The door flew open, Jim never locked it, and John stood in the doorway with a steamed glint in his eyes.  He hesitated as he saw the gun in Jim’s hand but decided to step into the apartment and shut the door behind him.

He spoke in a hushed tone, his voice steady, "I love you and I want you."

Jim looked back, even more steady and still holding the loaded gun. "John Watson, get out of my heart," he replied.

The air grew thick as they glared at each other, neither willing to break the silence that followed Jim’s statement.  Then finally, like two tigers attaching one another, the pair met in a vicious and lip biting kiss.

Jim pulled away slightly breathless and he regarded John's handsome face and bleeding lip before revealing a delighted grin, "John Watson, let Daddy take you to bed."

John looked at his partially with affectionate and partially with disbelief, “Is your bedroom as unkempt as this one?”

With a sharp laugh the Irish man started to lead the doctor down a hallway, “Of course not, I _rarely_ use the room.”

As his mouth turned into a wolfish smile that could envy Jim’s, John opened the door he was brought to, “We will have to change that, won’t we, Daddy?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm contemplating making this a series. Depends on the interest readers have and my own ability to be inspired. thanks for reading :)


End file.
